Male Lead Is Obsessed With My Health - Chapter 93

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 93

It takes only a few words to crack the peace one has struggled so hard to maintain.
“Your playing, no matter when I hear it, is always beautiful.”
A ripple cast by my master, the virtuoso Emmanuel.
“Saeborn, your sound has always existed for someone other than yourself.”
Only for Mother—that was the Violin and my life existed for.
“A question has been troubling me. Your performance is excellent even now, yet I cannot shake the feeling that I have never truly heard you play—the real you.”
“Saeborn, have you ever played, even once, for yourself?”
“Purely for your own joy?”
When had it begun?
When I could no longer play the Violin.
When the life I thought sufficiently satisfying began to feel like a marionette twisted upon a distorted stage.
For myself.
My master’s question lingered long, becoming a knot of ache in my chest.
What is joy?
What does it mean to love myself?
My playing has always existed for Mother.
For me, the Violin was a means.
Because Mother loved it—to make her happy, to be loved by her.
There was no “I” in that.

* * *

The nightmare always begins the same way.
A dim corridor, and at its end, a stage.
Swallowing trembling breath, I climbed onto the stage where a Grand Piano waited, where an invisible accompanist played, and beyond them loomed the dark silhouettes of countless people.
“The strongest contender for the championship…….”
“She might even break the youngest record…….”
“The one Emmanuel holds dear…….”
A stage I could never complete.
The beginning of my despair.
This day was when Mother abandoned me.
Probably the final Concours.
Had I won this one, I would have earned the title of international Concours champion, and I would have spent the rest of my life giving recitals and performances.
But at that final threshold, I could not play.
“Have you ever played for yourself?”
In that moment when only the Violin and I remained, my master’s words became shackles around me.
My hands would not move.
I could not play.
A score I had read as naturally as breathing—my hands froze as though I had forgotten how. The instrument itself felt so heavy that my arms sank under its weight.
That day remained vivid inside me still.
“How could you possibly disappoint me like this?”
The day her proud daughter, the one who resembled her, stood on stage like an idiot and could not perform, ruining the final recital.
“How could you.”
Mother, trembling with betrayal, spoke only two words to me.
All reproach, all fury, all disappointment was packed into those words.
Without asking for explanation or reason, she looked at me with icy eyes, then simply left me behind.
That was the last image of Mother I would remember.
Abandoned by Mother.
And so, grotesquely, I could never play the Violin again.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to play anymore.”
“Whenever you can play again, come back to me.”
My master, who had cherished my talent, said those words, but I never picked up the Violin again.
Mother did not come looking for her “failed daughter” who had disappointed her, did not forgive her, and did not love her anymore.
Instead, she began seeking a replacement—not a defective piece like me, but someone who would fulfill her dreams without complaint.
I remember what Father said when Mother took on a new student.
“She’s suffering because you disappointed her. You have to understand. Mother is a very pitiful person, you see? All right?”
What about me?
What about me, who had only ever had Mother?
I was left alone.
With nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Even my brilliant talent held value only so long as I could perform it, and besides the Violin, I was…….
To me.
Without Mother, I was…….
“I tried so hard.”
I tried so very hard.
I spent my whole life trying to be recognized and loved, and if all of that could be forgotten and replaced so easily, what was any of it worth?
The despair I thought I had buried consumed me. The numbness I believed had set in gave way as emotions gnawed at my heart again, and the defeat I thought had passed swept me off my feet once more.
I could not be loved for being myself.
I thought if I abandoned the Violin, I would be loved as Mother’s daughter alone…….
But I was not loved.
Mother had never loved me at all.
Confronted with such a clear, unmistakable truth, I could only crumble as I grasped for a love I could never have.
One day Mother would look back on me.
There was no way Mother didn’t love me.
She’s just too angry now, leaving me to fend for myself. Once her anger fades, she’ll come back and hold me again.
That’s how parents and children are, isn’t it?
Everyone says so, don’t they?
In a house sealed in darkness, hearing only the tick-tock of a clock, I waited for Mother alone.
Staring at a door that would not open.
Day after day.
Until finally I admitted to myself that Mother had abandoned me.
“Mother…….”
Still, I thought Mother would ask me at least once. Ask why I did it.
I thought she would come and find me, hold me at least once.
At least once.
Why did I cling to such hope?
I spent the family’s money lavishly just to spite them, holed up in a hotel reading web novels. Money drained away, yet my parents did not scold me. My credit card was never declined.
Complete indifference.
The hope that Mother would one day come for me withered away, and I became like a dried, withered corpse.
And so, as meaningless time flowed past, one day—
When news broke that Mother’s student had won the Concours I had failed, I went out on a sudden impulse to see Mother, and was hit by a car.
That’s how I must have died.
‘Did Mother regret it after I died?’
A question that means nothing now.
‘Did Mother…….’
Did she at least grieve?
Even wounded, even tormented unto death, I could not let go of her.
Foolishly, stupidly.
I still wanted to be loved by Mother.
I still loved Mother.
Even now, like this.
But if even Mother will not love me, who will?
I could not even love myself.
—No one will save you.
—No one will love you.
—Who could love you, abandoned even by Mother?
The festering emotions that had eaten away at me, sickening me.
—No one will help you.
—There is no such thing as salvation.
—Life is something you face alone.
Slimy, clinging black hands, damp and stinking in the darkness, seized my ankles, gripped my legs, and wrapped around my slender throat.
To drag me down.
—You know it too. Who would ever like a child with nothing lovable about them, nothing cute to recommend them? If you want to be loved, you have to be lovable.
—Everyone will eventually see what you really are, grow tired of you, and leave. Just like Mother.
—So.
Let’s just disappear.
It wouldn’t be so bad.
If the darkness swallows me, I can end as a loved child.
I won’t live much longer anyway, will I?
If I wake up, all I’ll know is pain and misery. But if I sleep here forever, I could be happy.
So.
Just as I was about to reach for those black hands stretching toward me—
“Arelin!”
A start.
A voice ringing faintly through the darkness.
“Fession……?”
Was this even a hallucination?
I must have misheard.
There was no way Fession could be here.
A hollow laugh escaped me. Had I truly come to love Fession this much? So much that even in a moment like this, I could hear his voice?
The thick, sluggish darkness that clung to swallow me covered my ears. Then the Compass in my arms vibrated.
That was when—
“Arelin―!”
A clearer voice.
I lifted my head.
Light poured down.
Brilliant, blinding light.
A white hand burst through the bright light that melted away the darkness and seized me.
“Arelin!”
“―!”
A pale face came into view. Silver hair with a fine luster, falling over a round forehead. Long, densely-set eyelashes, and eyes of vivid crimson, like roses steeped in color.
If salvation could take shape, would it look like this?
I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again. No words would come.
All I could see was that bright smile looking down at me.
Just.
Just that radiant smile directed at me.
“Arel, I’ve come to get you.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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